


A Rare Talent

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fire, M/M, Magic, Mpreg, Post Mpreg, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21998380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Their son can pull fire from the air.He can hold it, control it, and bend it to his will.Such a gift has not been seen for thousands of years.
Relationships: Beric Dondarrion/Thoros of Myr
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	A Rare Talent

Beric had watched Thoros labor with their son for nearly half a day.

It was not a pleasant process, and though he’d been there for every agonizing moment, holding his husband’s hand and encouraging him on, he still felt as though he hadn’t done enough.

He would have taken every bit of pain away from Thoros if he could, and after awhile spent in the midst of childbirth, Thoros gladly would have thrown it all onto him.

But then they were holding their precious little boy when all was said and done, and he was more than worth the suffering.

Eros was a quiet baby. He didn’t cry much and when he did it was never for long.

Of course that was mainly because he never wanted for anything.

Beric made an excellent father, as Thoros was sure that he would, and he tended to the baby as if he were a paranoid pirate keeping watch over his hoard of precious gems and gold.

One cry and Beric was awake, hurrying to get little Eros and bring him to Thoros for a feed.

One cough from his son and Beric was hurrying off to find the maester, worried that Eros might be coming down with some sort of terrible fever.

One whimper when his child was settled in the arms of anyone but himself, and Beric was very quick to instruct said person on how exactly a baby should be held.

Thoros liked to poke fun at his husband of course, but at times he was surprised at himself and how equally worried he became when their baby would cry out for them.

He hadn’t expected to be a very good parent. He had never been the type for such a thing, after all, but as he seemed to be the only person in the world that Beric trusted entirely with Eros, he liked to think that he was doing an alright job at raising the lad.

They both loved him dearly. That much was beyond dispute.

So when the day came that Eros began to reveal to them his gifts, both men were equally alarmed.

“Beric...” Thoros swallowed hard, watching as his tiny son, who had only just begun to walk on his own two legs, stood before his arm chair with a proud smile on his face and a fist full of still burning flame.

Beric came from down the hall, and quickly, hearing the quiet panic in his husband’s call.

He stopped at the sight of their boy, his eyes growing wide when Eros wobbled slowly to him, holding out the fire in his hand as if it were a present meant to be given to his father.

“What...?” It was all Beric could utter at the moment and Thoros shook his head.

He had no idea.

“He never touched the hearth.” He told Beric. “Not once...He conjured that flame.”

“But...” Beric watched curiously as Eros began to transfer his handful of fire to opposite palm. He didn’t seem to understand this power either, but neither was he frightened by it.

“Our swords require a blood offering to be set alight.” Thoros sighed heavily, his breath coming out with a great difficulty, as if it were locked into his chest. “Eros pulled his fire from nothing, Beric. I don’t...I’ve never seen...”

Beric reached down to lift his son into his arms when the child began to cry for him, his eyes still glued to the flame that Eros held in his palm.

“You must have heard of others?” Beric inquired of his husband, desperate for an explanation. “You have gifts of your own, love. Is this truly so odd?”

Thoros was quiet for a moment as he watched their son play with his handful of fire. It never burned him. Not even a little.

“It’s one thing to see visions in the flames.” He told Beric. “But to conjure fire from nothing...That is a gift that no living man possesses. Not even those of dragon’s blood.”

“But it’s happened before?” Beric pressed urgently.

“I’ve only heard old stories.” Thoros admitted. “Rumors, more like. I never thought any of them to be true...Our child is blessed, Beric.”

Beric felt the heat of the fire near his face be put out and then his little son had placed his tiny hand against his cheek, rubbing at the prickly scruff of his father’s beard and giggling.

“Blessed?” Beric breathed softly, a nervous smile appearing where his worry filled frown had once been. “Well that’s a good thing, aye?”

“Aye.” Thoros confirmed, standing quickly and crossing the room to place a kiss against the top of his child’s head. “A thing I could have never predicted, but good none the less...You’re a very lucky little lad, my love.”

Eros smiled sweetly up at his parents and babbled his little half words, completely unaware of just how special he was.


End file.
